Would You Sing Me To Sleep?
by Caspar Wilde
Summary: When the Master has to be kept.  Looking back, the title doesn't really fit. Un beta'd, sorry for any mistakes!


1

"_So you're just gonna… keep me?"_

"_If that's what I have to do."_

The cocky, I-don't-really-care-cus-I'm-awesome-and-insane grin was almost too perfect, glued onto his mouth as always, where it was supposed to be no matter what. The eyes were still wide, staring forward towards a blue box. Nobody was looking at his eyes, which was probably a good thing… because they were so full of fear.

"_The rest of my life in prison with __**you**__?"_

He remembered the look on the other's face, the tone that made him roll his eyes at the time. But he'd been listening, drinking in every little word.

To be kept, like a prisoner, like a pet. "Looked after", because he was just too crazy for the poor world. Kept like a pet. And now look, he was wearing a collar with a fucking _leash._

The Master rolled his head back, cracking his neck, before lowering it and catching the red leather in his mouth - not exactly easy, considering that his arms were firmly strapped behind his back in this stupid "jacket." He smirked over at his jailer, brandishing the leash as best he could without hands. The offer was declined by a stony-faced, sad-eyed Doctor, who went for a more… dignified approach, placing his hands firmly on Koschei's shoulders and steering him forwards towards the _cage_. So big, but far too tiny compared to what he could have had.

And don't forget the drumming. It had started norma- the way it usually was, a steady, low _one two three four_ in his skull. But now, with each breath he took, each step closer to that thing, it was getting.. Louder..

So loud now, it was beginning to block out the rest of the world. Voices faded, muffled, then muted, even that of the skinny man walking right by his side. He went deaf gradually, but fast - with each beat eating at his senses. Numbness crept from his skull, down his spine into the tips of his fingers and sending one soft shiver through his battered frame - then the _blindness_. Edges of his vision blurred, then the cloud seeped over his eyes into a thick, claustrophobic grey fog, darkening constantly.

The grin was slipping.

So intense was the fog now that he could barely see once he made it inside the spaceship, just dim lights. Fingers left his shoulders to close the doors and even that he didn't feel.

Just drumming.

One

Two

Three

Four.

The grin slid down his chin and dripped to the floor as he fell.

And _now_ old Doctor noticed. At first, he thought Mister Master was just.. Well, being himself, or perhaps genuinely in awe of the TARDIS. But as the white-haired crazy hit the floor, it hit the _Doctor_ that something clearly was more wrong than usual.

"Koschei. Koschei, listen, can you hear me? Koschei, what's happening?" The Doctor's voice was anxious, actually almost frantic as he dropped to his knees just in time to catch the Master before his face met the floor. Said lunatic had his eyes tight shut by know, teeth ground hard together and fingers coiled into fists behind the tight fabric of his straight jacket. There was a voice there, on the edge of his hearing, the old nickname from so many years ago burrowing into his head.

"Theta.." his voice was raspy, tearful, and growing louder with the pain thudding inside his head. "Aaaaaah, Theta! Make it stop, oh please please…" It had never, ever been this bad, never so bad that he would beg Theta Sigma in such a pathetic way. Theta's arms looped around Koschei's quaking body, unbuckling the bonds that held the man's hands behind him. The crumbling Master immediately flung his arms around the Doctor in a drowning grip, ignoring the too-long sleeves and just clutching at the fabric of the skinny man's jacket.

Theta Sigma held his old friend and enemy once again, rocking him slowly and muttering quiet, useless words of reassurance in return to the Master's desperate cries, in broken, half-forgotten Gallifreyan and sputtering English phrases. He stayed like that for what seemed like hours and hours, until he'd burnt himself out, run out of tears and his throat was so raw that there was blood on his lips. He should have fallen asleep, surely the exhaustion would have knocked him out. But it didn't, because the drums were still there to keep him awake. Then the Doctor, good sweet reliable Doctor, untangled them to dash off to the TARDIS' extensive medical room and hunt down the strongest sedative he could. A syringe full of clear liquid that he wished he didn't have to use, but there you go. It could knock out a hyperactive elephant, so hopefully it would do to put an insane, distressing Time Lord to sleep for a few hours.

Back downstairs, Koschei was curled in a familiar shell under the hub, whimpering and murmuring to himself. Theta crouched next to him silently, reaching round to undo the stupid collar so he could slide the needle into a vein. The Master barely flinched as sleep was injected into his bloodstream, tilting his head to blink frightened dark eyes at the other of his kind. It took less than a minute, those eyes glazing over and becoming dull before finally closing. His muscles relaxed all at once and he was unconscious on the floor.

The Doctor forced himself to stop thinking and just do what was necessary. He located a blanket, then carefully set about undoing all the crazy fastenings on the straight jacket and pulling it away from the sleeping man. There was a plain red t-shirt underneath, slightly torn and a little scorched too. Leaving the blanket over the haunted ex-prime minister, Theta at last allowed himself to spread out on the floor opposite Koschei. His brown eyes stayed open, watching like an overworked guardian angel. One of his ward's hands was within reach, so the lonely angel laid his own fingers over it, as if that would keep them safe. He stayed awake as long as he could, but after several hours sleep caught up with him, and there were two broken Time Lords asleep on the floor.

2

Koschei woke up shaking, starving, and… warm. When was the last time he'd woken up warm? Oh yes, when he was prime minister and had _power_. So much power.. And that had almost killed him in the end, all that power. He didn't want to think that Theta had had much influence over his actions, but…couldn't help thinking where he'd be without that man. Maybe he would've succeeded in tearing apart planet Earth. Maybe he'd be dead. Who knows?

After a few seconds of laying there with his eyes shut, counting the drum-beats (still there, of course, only… tamer), the Master had to examine his new surroundings. His last memory was… pain, lots of, and whispers and a familiar body with a familiar scent. _Theta Sigma_._ The Doctor._ Whatever he wanted to call himself, it had been that man, and Koschei was on the floor of the TARDIS, right. And hold on - what was the odd heat on his fingers?

The Master opened his eyes. Half a second looking and they grew wide as satellites before he snapped them shut again.

He frowned slightly. Why was Theta holding his _hand?_ Even better, why was the Doctor asleep barely two feet away? The Master opened one eye cautiously, just to make sure he hadn't dreamt it. Guess what? He hadn't. And he couldn't understand it. Studying the sleeping one's face, the Master saw the eternal sadness written there and was ashamed of the feeling that jabbed intrusively at his hearts. An odd, muffled choking sound pressed out of his throat and for a second he feared he might cry again, or maybe throw up, but fortunately for the both of them he did neither. Instead, he bit down on his lips and turned to face the ceiling, listening to the oddly soothing hum of the ship. He didn't move his hand.

Focusing on the drum beat inside his head, counting it out one two three four one two three four until it drowned out his thoughts and there was just that noise. See, sometimes it was a good thing.

Once the Doctor opened his eyes almost half an hour later, the Master had put up a very convincing façade of still being asleep. Being tired, melancholy and really too stressed to notice, Thete fell for it. He sat up with a soft groan, dragging both hands down his face and back through his hair, eliciting a faint twitch from the fingers on the floor he'd abandoned without noticing.

"Koschei…?" He whispered sleepily, shifting round and leaning over the silvery-haired Time Lord. No response. "You awake, Kosch?" Apparently not. The Master stayed silent, unmoving, breathing in time with the thudding at the back of his skull. Then the Doctor did something that took him by so much surprise he almost broke the disguise. Theta's fingers were in his hair, combing through it, then down the side of his face, jaw, under his chin, up… to his lips, where he paused, and if Koschei had dared to open his eyes he would've seen tears. The Doctor opened his mouth, closed it again several times like a distraught, beautiful goldfish, before he stood up and padded away.


End file.
